An evening in Shahjahanabad. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] The other evening The Delhi Walla followed a woman in Old Delhi. It was humid. The woman was walking in Matia Mahal Bazaar. She was wearing a long green skirt and a red-and-orange kurta. The woman looked around in wonder as if she were in a dream. She stopped by a food stall and stared at the fried pieces of chicken that were decorated with red roses. She moved on, stopping by another stall to observe a man deep-frying a paratha. A vendor of children’s toys soon diverted her attention. She took one from him and discreetly passed a hundred-rupee note into his hands. The woman walked further down the street, turned into an

The woes of a millionaire novelist. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] Delhi-based novelist Vikram Seth was to submit the manuscript of his new novel A Suitable Girl to his publisher in June 2013. He hasn't – according to media reports. In 2009, Mr Seth had signed a deal with Penguin to produce a sequel of his bestselling novel A Suitable Boy. He had been paid an advance of $1.7 million. According to media reports, Penguin Random House wants the money back from Mr Seth. In 2009, the millionaire author had talked to The Delhi Walla about his work-in-progress, saying, “I really have no idea how many pages Suitable Girl will have. Perhaps between 10 and 10,000.” On being queried about the novel’s

The Delhi coffee table. [Text and photos of photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] In order to feel the intimate life of Delhiites, The Delhi Walla is going from house to house, requesting people to show their family photos. The project will never end. Here is the first instalment. This album belongs to the house of Sattars, who live in Pahari Imli, Shahjahanabad. Scenes of our loved ones 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15.

The lunch hour. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] One afternoon The Delhi Walla came across a team of daily-wage labourers in Connaught Place, the city’s colonial-era commercial district. They were building a low brick-wall in a parking area. All the men hailed from the same village in Bihar and all of them shared a single-room tenement in nearby Paharganj as their residence. It was the lunch hour – also a time to rest. Some men were lounging on the wall-in-progress; some were lying sprawled on the pavement. One had his head placed upon his yellow work-helmet; one had turned his lunch box into a pillow -- his eyes were wide-open but he appeared to be in the middle of some dream.

The city in past. [By Mayank Austen Soofi] The Union Jack at Red Fort and trams in Chandni Chowk. After ransacking private albums, antique books, curio stores and the internet, The Delhi Walla has built a collection of images that gives a sense of Delhi in the old days. The black & white photos showcase periods from the 1850s to the 1960s. Some pictures are disturbingly contemporary. A rag merchant is selling his wares outside the Jama Masjid; year 1944. I saw such a man in the same area just last week! A 1948 picture, captioned ‘Families living on Street’, has a woman clothed in a threadbare saree. Two naked children are sitting beside her – she is protectively holding the head of one of them.

The way we were. [Text and coloured photos by Mayank Austen Soofi; black & white photos by India Photo Archive Foundation] "A photograph never grows old,” said Albert Einstein. “You and I change, people change all through the months and years, but a photograph always remains the same.” But the way we look at photos does change. The Delhi Walla recently walked into an exhibition called Re-imaging: The People of India (1850-2013). It displayed pictures taken in the 1850s and 1860s next to images taken in early 2013 by four photographers. The exhibition was organized by the India Photo Archive Foundation. It presented the 19th century “bunnea”, “marwaree” and “scarf maker”, as seen by British lensmen, along with the 21st century Baniya, Marwari

Evening dreams. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] One evening The Delhi Walla was walking in the garden outside the ticket window of Humayun’s Tomb. The grass was covered with dry leaves. The traffic sounds of Mathura Road were soaring above towards the blue-black sky and gradually fading into a low hum. A few boys were playing cricket on one side of the grassy ground. Under a green Amaltas tree (it would soon be clothed with golden-yellow flowers), a burqa-clad woman took out her leather chappal and gave it to her male companion who started to examine it intently. Meanwhile, a barefoot man continued to sleep on the ground. Morning is far away, sir 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

The hairy portraits. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] The Delhi Walla is a keen devotee of the beards of Delhiwallas. Some men, thanks to their long flowing beards, look like spiritual brothers of Russian novelist Leo Tolstoy. A few beards look as grey and melancholic as that of Bahadur Shah Zafar, the last Mughal emperor. One tailor in Hazrat Nizamuddin Basti looks like a twin of Vietnamese statesman Ho Chi Minh. I’m still looking for a Lenin. Into the forest 1. 2. 3. 3a 4. 4a. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22.

Life's like that. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] The Delhi Walla sees this woman each time he walks down this street. She is always sitting or lying on this stretch of the pavement. Sometimes the area's dogs share her space. The lady has blue slippers. Her home has no privacy, and I will not ask her about her life -- let it remain private. Homeless, or not 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19.

Tragedy in the morning. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] The cold morning was masked in a gray fog of smoke that leapt out of the 15-storey Himalaya House, an office-complex on Kasturba Gandhi Marg, an avenue in Central Delhi’s Connaught Place. The building caught fire earlier in the morning. It had started due to a short-circuit. The few bystanders who were at the avenue had their eyes turned towards the flames. Some silently stood beside the Outside Broadcasting vans of TV new channels. An old man walked past a fire brigade van; he did not look up. The birds were (occasionally) spotted flying with a hurried flapping of wings. As the smoke spread across the blue sky, the nearby buildings, including the British Council